Verjuice

I disliked beer until I tried Chimay Red (unpasteurized Belgian ambrosia made by Trappist monks) a couple of weeks ago. I was totally blown away. Since then, I have sampled both Chimay Blue and Chimay Triple, but I like the Red best. I still dislike most other beers that I've tried, though. Any suggestions for beers that I might seek out, knowing that I love Chimay? Anybody else adore this stuff?

Jaymes, I have to agree with you about Mom's. It took me completely by surprise, but it is astoundingly good for jarred sauce. I like all of them, but especially the one containing butter and cream.

Is Christina's the place with all of the deliciously unusual flavors, like chamomile and black licorice?

I'm curious to know: what are people's signature dishes? The ones from your repertoire that you cook again and again. The ones people love you for. Are they generally recipes you could whip up blindfolded, or more ambitious than that? How often do you rely on their magic to impress those around you? Any good stories? Don't be shy.

Is there a staple dish that you never seem to tire of? An ingredient that you can't seem to get enough of? A fallback dish that you rely on to get you through less imaginative periods? I have a tendency towards overkill when I begin a love affair with a new ingredient or recipe. After a couple of weeks, I never want to see it again. There are only a couple of exceptions. One is a tarted-up oat bran of many years standing. It's failsafe, foolproof, and child-tested. Probably the only 1,200 calorie bowl of hot cereal in town. I could eat it three times a day, but then I'd never want to anything except lie around like a beached whale, napping and giggling listlessly between meals. It's what I make when I don't want to think about what to make. The finished product looks like it requires a certain amount of creative effort, but really doesn't. I always toast the cereal before cooking it, Always butter, almonds, Turkish apricots (made more plump and luscious by a brief soak in chamomile tea), whole milk. Honey, maple syrup AND brown sugar (indeed). Cinnamon, maybe walnuts or pecans. And a generous dollop of Greek yogurt. Other than that, I can never have too many pistachios, broccoli, green chili, Rio Star grapefruits, and Michel Cluizel bittersweet chocolate. I have eaten all of these things nearly every day for years and I still hunger for them. How about y'all?

I have just returned from visiting family in the United Arab Emirates. After thirty hours of travelling, I fell into bed a few hours ago with the four-kilo tin of basboussa, nammoura, and baklava I brought back with me. The butter keeps me sated, the sugar makes me happy, the nuts make me strong like an ox. Bliss.

Peppadew sweet piquante peppers- not just the peppers themselves, which are amazing, but the syrupy brine that they are packed in. When I am craving it, I can think of almost nothing else until I get me some. I drink until my insides are aching and blistered, and then I start another round. I'm convinced that it will take a few years off my life, and I'm normally not crazy about any preserved foods, really, especially pickled ones... but every now and then, man, absolutely nothing else will do. I've made martinis with it, even. Sick, disgusting. They were great! Am I going to Hell now?

Its focus is on introducing the agricultural and environmental backdrop and/or history of (Ethiopian) coffee (Ethiopia is apparently the birthplace of coffee, and the varieties grown there outnumber an pther country's). Also a bit about the processing of coffee (ie dry eg. harrar, wet eg. yirgacheffe etc.) and coffee ceremony. The article ends with, "Zerihun Alemayehu, a government employee who functions as an advocate for coffee cooperatives, seems to speak for everyone when he voices these thoughts: 'God gave us coffee, and we gave it to the world. And for that gift is seems that the world is not paying us.'" I just noticed that the writer, Anne Marie Ruff, is based in the United Arab Emirates, where I am visiting right now. I was reading local magazines yesterday and lamenting the absence of food writing/restaurant reviews in them. Kind of weird.

What was the internship like? I love Saveur. And I have read the article; it was brief but then one of my favorite things about Saveur is that its very, very readable, and so it doesn't end up in a pile with all the other subscription magazines I need to make plans to get to eventually, and never end up reading as thoroughly as I'd like. Saveur is thoughtfully written and generally very well-edited, I think. I find that it's great for initiating my curiosity, and if I want more info on whatever; Ethiopian coffee for example, I can look elsewhere for it anyway.

I was visiting Poland for the first time with the (Polish) lad I had been dating at the time. Meeting the family and all. The relationship didn't meet its demise until after we got back to the States, but I think it was the meal at his folks' house that was the deathknell of our love affair. I was a pretty apologetic vegetarian at the time (snapped out of that one, thank god). Although I hadn't eaten meat in years, I anticipated that this might cause problems while abroad, and I had prepared for this by bringing some of my own food, and agreeing to negotiate if I felt it necessary; my moral code placed courtesy above dietary quirks, and my choices at the time were probably more affectation than conviction. His parents were already opposed to our union; I was decidedly the very non-Eastern European nightmare that they dreaded would whisk their beloved son away to the Land of the Locust Eaters. Loverboy had mentioned to his parents in advance that I did not eat meat, and though this was not particularly well-taken, it was taken nonetheless. Or so we thought. To begin with, I had brought my hosts a bottle of good Scotch whiskey (boyfriend's ardent suggestion) and a frangipane and pear galette that I had picked up that same morning in Paris. The mother turned her nose up at both, pushing them back into my arms, leaving her son to translate: "We have no use for such things... dessert is already made... we don't need whiskey, we drink wine and vodka..."... Getting a bit frosty in Warsaw. Then, I was walked in on _twice_ while using the facilities. Don't know how; the light under the door should have made it obvious enough that there was someone in there, and with only seven of us present it wasn't as though the company was hard to keep track of. At the table, everyone was served wine except for me. My boyfriend attempted to save face by leaping up and discreetly switching my empty with his full glass. Nobody intended to acknowledge my presence at the table either. The Boy cast me a few apologetic glances while he engaged in foreign dialogue with his distasteful and ill-mannered family. The mother caried a tureen of soup into the dining room and ladled several bowls of it out, but did not intend to serve any to me (some kind of winter root veggie stew- and meatless, as it happened to be). Instead, after bickering with her son in Polish, she left the room and came back with a black plastic breakfast bowl with saran wrap over the top. She just left there, underneath my nose; didn't even uncover it. I removed the clingfilm to reveal a highly suspect and nauseating mess of cold boiled macaroni in milk. Leftovers from breakfast, and what leftovers they were. After the plates were cleared, everyone at the table was handed an steaming plate from the kitchen: mashed potatoes with cheese and onions topped with some kielbasa and a sauce made of ground meats; sort of stew-like, very fragrant and delicious-smelling. Pierogies on the side. I would have eaten anything at that point. I felt insecure, irritated and lonely, but my sense of humor was building as I fell further into disbelief at what was happening. My plate, when it arrived, contained nothing but a halved red apple that looked like mice had been at it, two empty, unfilled pierogie shells, and a totally offensive pool of - I kid you not- melted lard mixed with the raw blood from the ground meat, and a single raw egg yolk in an accompanying saucer, drowning in milk. I started laughing giddily when I realized that a) I had no cutlery, and b) everyone at the table was watching me, bemused. My boyfriend looked half mortified, half like he was kind of enjoying his new role as the Antichrist. Truly disturbing. Dessert, apparently, was goat's cheese and some sort of a rustic cake, but I didn't stay to try it. I was well on my way back to my hotel room by then, where I was happy to binge on bison grass vodka and emergency food such as Powerbars, dried figs and chocolate while I packed my suitcase and changed my travel plans. Nevermind; I hear that the food Poland leaves a lot to be desired. Although I did meet a few very nice people between the nightmare-on-ice-family-escapade and the airport!

-Loose black tea, to start the day. -Chimay, to end it. I can handle any manner of whatever or the lack thereof in between. I mean, I like 2% for the tea, and occasionally something to eat alongside the cold Chimay, but I run out of those sorts of things all the time.

While dining out recently, I had the opportunity to witness the charm of the ubiquitous Creme Brouhaha work itself on a couple on their first date. The waiter came around to their table to offer dessert, and started down the list (I should point out that this particular restaurant is famous for "homestyle" desserts just like Aunt X used to make). None of these desserts appeal to me in the least: White chocolate banana cream pie. Bourbon chocolate bread pudding. Strawberry rhubarb pie. Hulking slices of banana layer cake with peanut butter frosting. Key lime pie, chocolate cream pie, coconut cream pie. Blackberry cobbler, apple crisp. Flan. Butterscotch pudding. Vanilla pudding. Creme brulee. At the mention of this, the woman's face lit up, and the man said "Ohh, yeah. Now we're talking". They moaned as they ate. I often find that my dining companions will insist on ordering Creme Brulee if we decide to split a dessert. Occasionally I too like to rap my spoon against its brittle, bitter caramelized sugar crust and eat the broken shards provided they are tasty enough, but I never feel compelled to order it myself. I see it as the dessert equivalent of ranch dressing (which I can't stand); it's familiar, it's creamy, it's rarely horrid (and even more rarely well-made), it doesn't require a great deal of imagination but it is so autonomous that it sort of stands in its own food group. It's something you either get or you don't. I put it in the same category as macaroni and cheese, fondue, queso fundido, angel food cake, bread pudding or any pudding for that matter, cream pies, most trifles and cheesecakes. Nursery fare, the lot of it. It's diametrically opposed to most things I adore. What makes a dessert interesting? Like anything that I'm eating in a restaurant, I would like it to be 1) thoughtful 2) seasonal if possible. Like haiku, I want to know what time of year it is just by reading the menu (blackberry cobbler at the end of November?!) This means that potion size should be considered -there is such a thing as too much of a good thing. Texture is key. Most interesting are not as aggressive as the ones listed above. I love ice cream, but most of it is so gimmicky (even if you narrow it down to one favorite flavor, there are a million permutations of it to be reckoned with) that I just make my own. I like bracing, vibrant sorbets as well. Rum cake that levitates off the plate. Crisp little buttery things to have with espresso. Madeleines, croissants. A square of dark bitter chocolate. A pound of dark bitter chocolate. No cream or eggs necessary for the chocolate, thanks, but I won't say no. Frangipane, nougat, marrons glaces. Nuts; almonds, hazelnuts, pistachios, macadamias. I had an outstanding pecan and dried apple strudel yesterday (no raisins, thank God); it was served with a small scoop of nutmeg ice cream, chestnut parfait, some kind of lackluster compote. Mascarpone or ricotta cheesecake. Anything done with seasonal apples or pears and lots of butter. Deep, dark, rich and butter Guinness gingerbread; the kind that sticks to everything. A single meltingly flawless peach, or any fresh fruit for that matter. What happened to the desserts of yesteryear? I'm not saying that it has to be simple in order to be good, but that, that one bite of perfectly executed vanilla pudding is superior to hundreds of very good creme brulees. Claudia Fleming's composed desserts at Gramercy Tavern were invariably awesome, for example.

I'm going to be in Aspen and possibly also Denver Thursday through Sunday. What's good? I've heard that Montagna and Cache Cache are good in Aspen. If I end up in either town for Thanksgiving (very likely), where should I eat (I will most likely be dining solo but no biggie; I didn't grow up celebrating T-Day and am not that bothered about spending it quietly). However, a few good meals will be essential. Is Matsuhisa as disappointing as I've heard it is?

Amanda Hesser has a recipe in her new book (Cooking for Mr. Latte) for a peach tart with a crust made with o.oil. She adapted it from a recipe her mom uses, and she claims that the o.oil gives the tart a richer crust. She knows what she's talking about; it was dee-lish.

I have been crushing pepper with a mortar and pestle for years now because I've no idea which pepper mill to buy, and they can get awfully expensive. Is it worth buying a high-end one and why? Which one to buy? What about salt mills, any thoughts on those?

They're gutsy and I love 'em. When I breathe in the aroma, I feel like I'm falling into it. It's like a cloud of warmth; silky, meaty earthy- if angels could poop, this is what it'd taste like (sorry). Truffles definitely taste of the color brown, though- mulch, chocolate, mushrooms, shit. Utterly compelling. The more I eat them, the more I crave them. I prefer white truffles, though. Ohhh.

Added to vegetable dishes like sauteed leeks or roasted brussels sprouts. Make sure to leave them intact and don't bother them too much once they've been added to the pan or you'll end up with, as Nigella Lawson calls it, "mealy rubble". Unfortunately, chestnuts are best left whole or mashed into paste; anything in between is kind of unpleasant. They crumble like wet sand but add a mellow earthiness to simple, rustic vegetables and stuffings. I'm really not a fan of any sweets prepared with chestnuts, except for the Italian chestnut pudding in Monte Bianco- delicious! I also recommend adding them to lentil soup (red lentils are best) and pureeing.

When I visitied, I picked up a copy of Boston Magazine at the airport- the Best of issue, and there was A LOT of info in there; very helpful. The website is www.bostonmagazine.com and they have everything posted there under "Best Of". I recommend any of Lydia Shire's ventures for dinner. Barbara Lynch of No. 9 Park (excellent) has a new raw bar (i.e. oysters, and certainly lobster rolls). The fried clams at J.T. Farnham's are superb. Ken Oringer at Clio is getting a great deal of attention- all very good, but I haven't eaten there yet. My new favorite is Craigie St Bistrot in Cambridge. I also like Hi-Rise Bakery for bread and pastry.

I made dessert first. (Dried) Figs stuffed with gianduja and almonds, then dipped in extra-bittersweet chocolate, and drizzled with orange milk chocolate. I was on a sugar high and dinner was mostly a blur: - Sable with caramelized onions, Kefalotyri, horseradish cream. Five squash soup. -For greens, I had some lackluster frisee and a bowl of edamame, however the winner in that department was the tooth-aching sweet pistachio marzipan.

Has anyone tried Grains of Paradise?

A peanut butter sandwich. To compliment the tooth-aching grape jelly nuances in BN.

While I was there, and when I could work up the nerve to order it, I'd ask for a glass with some blackcurrant syrup and a bottle of Bulmers cider. Candy, basically, but whatever. It's delicious. I think they call it a "snakebite" in Scotland. I like Smithwick as well, though it's not exactly exotic.

Okay- so what's good in Saratoga Springs?

Going to be in Albany for a week or so- any suggestions? All budgets, any sortS of food. Not sure I can afford to be picky while in Albany, but I could be wrong. Anything I shouldn't miss while I'm there?

I recently tried my luck with Claudia Fleming's Candied Fennel with Pernod-Orange Sorbet and Pernod Whipped Cream. She suggests adding Caramel Blood Oranges and/or Orange Cornmeal Shortbread to make a composed dessert. In any case, this really parallels the fennel-citrus theme that so many of us seem to go nuts for. The recipe is dead easy, too.